Monday, June 30, 2003

Ok, maybe I exaggerated a wee bit about my relative position in life. Though, it really doesn't matter. Juxtaposing ones self worth against the accomplishment of others is fool hardy. I need to judge life against my own expectations. I am not a total failure. But, I am not a resounding success either. The more I think about it my greatest fear is failing. Whether it concerns work, friends, family, leisure or love I am so afraid of rejection that any opportunity for success or happiness is precluded. In other words I have chosen to do nothing at all with my life rather then chance any sort of failure. Obviously, as usual, my logic is skewed. Greatness affords itself to only those willing to face utter despair. Enough with this nonsensical doublespeak, I am starting to make myself think.

I am very fortunate to have people who do care about me. Whether or not it is deserved I can't say but I do greatly appreciate it.

Oh by the way I did start the new job. I am not going to comment about it, because I want to maintain a positive attitude. Though, today amongst the other trainees was the first time I ever actually felt old. Half the damn room just graduated high school. Now I know college is a stupid idea. Could have become a collections agent straight out of diapers it seems.

oh well it could be worse. At least I am not cursed with lycanthrope and subsequently forced to live a life in sin practicing the furry fetish.


go to hell

Sunday, June 29, 2003

No post today. I am busy contemplating the empty void that is my life.


450 kids were in my high school graduating class. Currently I am the 449th most succesful. One guy died.


go to hell

Saturday, June 28, 2003

Birthday's suck, or mine does. Turning 23 is of no real importance, hell the next big event associated with my birthday is when I get a car insurance break at age 25. But it is still customary to feel somewhat happy on the anniversary of ones birth. I didn't even get a damn cake. The parents did take me to Red Lobster, and I did get a pair of cheap leather shoes from Payless Shoe Store.

Today is very depressing.

Thank God I won't have to deal with this shit of a day for another year.


It's my birthday and I will cry if I want to.

Friday, June 27, 2003

I am officially on strike from my family. On Thursday the parents decided to blame me for my little brother’s problems. At first they only insinuated that I was the reason he acted like Satan's bastard child. However, five minutes into the conversation blatant accusations were being tossed my direction. Damian, i.e. the eater of worlds, is a problem child. There is no doubt about it. But, placing fault on my feet is akin to blaming Poland for World War Two.

I am just a stupid bastard who puts up with the dark one's behavior since I am too weak to do anything about it. Long ago father threatened physical harm if I disciplined Beelzebub. Due to my absolute fear of being pummeled I have not laid a finger on my brother, even when a caning was due. Somehow I am the problem now. Stupid bastards.


Yet, all is not lost in the land of Bob. In order to prevent further contamination of Shaitan, I have pledged to stay completely away from him. Also, to be certain my dastardly ways do not filter to him through my parents; I will no longer interact with the mommy and daddy as well.


By the way I turn 23 tomorrow, another year closer to massive heart failure.


Go to hell

Thursday, June 26, 2003

Damn Blogger was offline for 24 hours. It is 6:45 am and I haven't went to bed yet. God I need to get a life.

Help me please

go to hell

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

Less then a week from now I begin work. Being one of the gainfully employed lemmings makes me feel very sad. My comfortable, albeit tedious existence will forever be marred by joining the workforce. I am still hoping that the company discovers one of the embellishments/bold-faced lies on my resume and promptly rescinds their job offer.

I really don't want to work. I was born to be a layer not a doer.

By the way my dad's website is coming along nicely, even if it looks little childish. I almost did a good job; perhaps shareware ain't so bad after all.

Monday, June 23, 2003

Too lazy to come up with a worthwhile post instead I will share an uplifting piece of poetry.

Suicide

Desolate inside
Empty solution
Answers denied
Darkness


I will give a cookie to whoever finds the hidden message.

go to hell

Sunday, June 22, 2003

Saw a film with dad, and the little brother. I had a pretty good time. All those Hulk-Haters should finally shut up, since it set a new June opening weekend record. No reason to debate whether it remained faithful to canon, because it didn't. But neither did X-Men, Spiderman or any other superhero film. Yet, even though Ang Lee took creative license with the character, the story still worked and was quite entertaining. And, all the shits who took issue with the CGI should get a clue. Considering he is a 15 foot tall, half ton, behemoth the Hulk looked pretty damn good.


Anyway I am off to bed, well going to eat a BLT pizza first then bed.


go to hell

Saturday, June 21, 2003

Creating a website with very little HTML knowledge can be very problematic. I am using a program that is making the process less painful, at least technically. Drag and paste is all that is required. However, I have very little control aesthetics over the page. Being at the mercy of third party shareware is not a good thing. I could go buy a how to book on HTML. Then again why put in all that effort. Painless mediocrity is always the best way to go.


I find it rather easy to portray a businessman. Being bland, rather cruel and incompetent comes naturally to me.
John Cleese (1939 - )

Friday, June 20, 2003

I decided to accept the job from the credit card company. June 30th will be the first day of a new adventure, one full of hang-ups, cursed laden conversations and broken promises. God love the USA and our debt ridden culture. Now, I will be part of the solution, a man who strives to uphold the virtue of timely bill paying. My family sees this as a wonderful opportunity, I mean who knows in six months I could be head collector. Hell, two years down the line I might even make assistant to the assistant's sisters babysitter. The future looks so promising. A career filled with stupid coworkers, stupider bosses, all against the bland backdrop of a sea of cubicles.


Kill me now.

go to hell

Thursday, June 19, 2003

I have seen the future of cinema. Soccer as a general rule sucks major ass. But, when combined with comedic kung fu styling the sport of English fairies transforms into something truly remarkable. Today is only the third time I have ever laughed so hard that I cried. The first two occasions involved freshman pledges, whip cream and a small puppy named Timmy. It is hard to believe that a sixty second movie preview could have such an effect, but never doubt the power of overweight Shaolin monks, a hot bald Asian chick and black dragon bicycle kicks. I am actually giddy with anticipation.

everyone to go see this movie August 8th

because if you don't

you can

go to hell

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

While looking around the trailer today I finally came to terms with a very serious issue. I am a dirty butt. As of five minutes ago there were a couple dozen rolled up paper towel sheets that happened to be caked in mucus. Empty soda cans litter every possible surface area. There is a strange and pungent odor emanating from the kitchen which must be due in small part to the pile of unwashed dishes. I won't even mention the condition of the bathroom; let’s just say my little brother and father refuse to use it, even only to urinate. What I need is a cheap housekeeper, preferably cute, female and very easy. If there are any takers please feel free to message me.

Talking about human filth is a perfect segue into today's main topic lesbian meter maids. Somewhere along the line a brain-dead walking talking validation for the morning after pill came up with the idea of having a two hour limit on the spaces downtown. The community that I call home/hell deems it necessary to employ three women to walk around the designated area and give out five dollar parking tickets. During the past ten years my dad's store has been located in their ticketing zone he has paid several thousand dollars in fines. That money could have been used to pay my way through college, get me a new car or to blow on cheap whores and expensive champagne. But NO it was used to justify the existence of the gorgon sisters. My dad is not bothered by this loss of money; he accepts the law at face value and quietly pays the consequences. On the other hand I am infuriated because said monies should be wasted on me and not the city government.

However, even I am willing to endure stupid laws and city ordinances. One would have an easier time discovering the means to perpetual motion then eliminating all stupidity from local legislation. Yet, I do take issue with the stupid laws being implemented unfairly. It seems the aforementioned carpet lickers do not give out parking violations to everyone. Point in fact the women who work next door at the jewelry store never find a little orange ticket on their windshield. You know why? They flirt with dykesareus on a regular basis. In other words the jewelry whores and vaginavores have a repartee between them. Isn't there a law about equal protection under the law, oh wait a minute that doesn't apply to heterosexual white fat men with chips on their shoulders.

If my story stopped here my anger would easily be justified. There is another group who regularly violate the downtown parking ordinance. City employees are allowed to apply for permanent parking passes when applicable to their situation (i.e. handicapped, obese, really fucking ugly), which on the surface is fine. Though they do have a multilevel parking garage made specifically for city employees a couple blocks down. Oddly enough that doesn't get used. Problem is they are able to continually apply for passes and hand them out to friends, family, the child molester next door etc. The city has no means to track the number of passes given out. Monday through Friday it is nearly impossible to find a space between 10am and 5pm. Several hundred spaces are no where to be seen. Saturday and Sunday during the same hours a couple dozen cars are littered around the area. What pray tell is the difference? The city employees, wives, and judge's illegitimate children are all at home admiring their ill-gotten parking passes and laughing all the while. So, either my city/county has bureaucratic numbers that put D.C. to shame or there are lots or the alternative where a few dozen city workers share, give and sell their easily obtained parking gold.

The lesson we learn from the above post is the necessity for intolerance when dealing with ugly lesbian meter maids and stupid city officials. I once witnessed a gentleman, of obvious redneck origin, nearly run over one the meter monsters. He nearly committed vehicular homicide to prevent getting a five-dollar ticket.

Good to know hope is still alive.


go to hell

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

Thanks everyone for sticking up for me during my absence. I have decided to let bygones be bygones and not comment further on shewholicksguysassholesatthetruckstop. Even extremely bitter gents need to forgive and suppress.

I had another interview today, one that went extremely well. If this whole job thing doesn't work out, I should release a "How to Bullshit your way to a winning interview". Thankfully the HR officer was fairly intelligent, and more importantly very pleasant. The job sounds fairly interesting, well as far as work goes, though as usual it pays very little. Starting from the bottom sucks ass. Bright, non-motivated chubby guys should rule the corporate world from the get-go.

F.Y.I.

Do not cut off a wart with scissors. It hurts like hell and seemingly bleeds forever.
Instead burn it off with lighter, much safer process.
Or, be a pussy and go to a doctors to have it removed.

go to hell

Monday, June 16, 2003

So much to say, so little inclination to say it.

Tomorrow I will delve into some recent issues, personal and otherwise.

Come back then.

go to hell

Friday, June 13, 2003

Shewhosucksrandomguysdicks left a message on IM yesterday. She was vainly trying to make me feel bad. Seems her boyfriend has a good job, and the STD test came back negative. Not really sure why I should feel bad about her defying statistical probability and not being infected with genital warts or the fact her boyfriend sells crack to school children, but that is beside the point. The motivation behind her remarks is irksome.

Recently, I was beginning to feel bad about being unnecessarily mean towards her. I even considered rescinding my previous remarks and apologizing. Thankfully that phase has passed now. I killed nice Bob, well ok I ate him. Empathy is a term that no longer applies in my case therefore unabashed hate is now the norm.

What makes that stupid bar slut think she has the right to belittle me? In a perfect world she would be sterilized to prevent further corruption of the human gene pool. I would also recommend a lobotomy, but if anyone who has ever spoken with her can't tell the
difference anyway.

Everyone do have a nice weekend

please remember to leave your seat belts unbuckled and to drink massive amounts of liqueur before driving.

go to hell

Thursday, June 12, 2003

My allergies are driving me crazy. Nose is running, eyes are itching, left buttock is tingling. Ok, the last one might not be allergy related but still.

I have decided to stay away from paragraphs altogether.

Should make my entries even less cohesive.

Anyway not much to say. I don't feel too terribly well.

My grandmother did turn eighty today.

Old bat is still kicking. God please kill me if I make it that long.

Fifty-seven more years of angst filled existence just doesn't appeal to me.

anyway you can all


go to hell

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

I literally live in hell. At night the trailer is unbearbly cold, while during the day it puts the Sahara to shame. I would bitch some more but as the saying goes "you get what you pay for".

My diet failed utterly after two days. Who would have thought? GOD DAMN IT.

Anyway, I am sweaty, tired and feeling a wee bit bloated.

So, blah blah fuck off blah sons of bitches blah blah fucking assholes etc.


go to hell

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

After a six hour midday nap I woke up to a cell phone beeping. It seems I had a message. Low and behold if it wasn't another HR proletarian with an enticing interview offer. I am still pondering whether or not to call back. Regardless, it appears that there is really significant chance that I will be gainfully employed in the near future. Life isn't fair. I just want someone to give me money due to my innate sense of worth. Of course I could just fake a severe back injury the first couple weeks, and then collect disability the rest of my life.


Sounds like a good plan.

go to hell

Monday, June 09, 2003

I woke up at 5:00 pm today. Needless to say my nights and days are mixed up. Best solution is to go back to sleep.

As I mentioned yesterday a great evil has taken residence next door. She actually came over early this morning, used a spare key and began screaming at me. Thankfully there were no easily accessible sharp objects. It seemed that the phone service had been shut off next door. Of course it was my fault. Well for once it partly was due to me. In order to save papa a little cash I opted to shut off my phone, and use the cellular as my sole means of communication. I placed the termination order a week ago. The young lady who keyed in the information made a mistake, one that I had to suffer for. Several phone calls and a half hour later the problem was rectified.

My descent into trailer trashdom hastens. I have no phone. Next the electric will go and then finally the water.



go to hell

Sunday, June 08, 2003

Note to self: Do not leave mom sitting in the car at a gas station, without the keys, and head home. Even though it seems like a great idea at the time, ultimately her thirst for revenge will overshadow giddy feelings.

Yesterday was really interesting. I decided to take my mother, a.k.a. source of all evil, to dinner at Red Lobster. We both enjoying eating at the seafood Mecca, so in theory it seemed like a great idea. Dad asked me to take his car, since it had air I agreed. Also, as a favor he wanted me to fill it up and put in a quart of oil. I am not terribly familiar with where the oil goes; usually a mechanic or daddy takes care of it for me. Though, for whatever reason, I took one on the chin and agreed to his request.

Upon arriving to the gas station I proceed to fill up the tank. Five minutes, and twenty-five dollars later the deed was done. After paying the attendant for the gas and a quart of oil it was now time to face destiny. I have put in oil a grand total of four times previous, never in this vehicle in particular. Popped open the hood, searched for the cap for a couple minutes, and then eureka I found it. This was the easy part; all I had to do was pour into the hole. However, fate deemed it necessary to test my resolve, in the form my mother. Shortly after removing the oil cap, she began heckling me. "Is that the right hole? Are you sure it is right one? You are going to ruin the engine? Why would your dad let you do this?" My intestinal fortitude did not waver, even in the face of absolute evil. Nonetheless, every man has a breaking point. Mine was when she blew the horn for five seconds. The sound bellowed in my ear and rhyme or reason no longer applied. I promptly stopped pouring the oil, sat it down beside the van and walked away. There was a voice in the background, vainly trying to apologize, but it was too little, too late. I walked home. A little over half way there it dawned on me that the car keys were still in my pocket. Should I leave the banshee where she was? Most assuredly yes, but the leaving the van was another matter. Father would be angry. Therefore, I pushed my anger deep inside, where it would fester, waiting until another day to come to fruition, and walked back. When I arrived she was sitting there chain smoking, screaming and nearly in tears. For a fleeting moment I was happy. I took her home listening half-heartily to the threats of bodily harm.

The story doesn't end here. Later that evening, around 9:00 pm, mom called. She would have revenge for embarrassing her so. I turned off the phone, but it was for naught. I am fairly sure she lurked around the trailer all night, waiting for me to come out. My anger was nothing compared to her loathsome hate. Even today, with the light still shining I am afraid. Monsters do in fact exist, and I happen to live next door to one.


go to hell

Saturday, June 07, 2003

I slept fourteen hours. It felt like five. I really need to become active, as the allure of sleeping, eating and defecting has faded.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend full of friends, drinks, flirting, car accidents, DUI's, and permanent paralysis.

By the way the diet log is ready, though due to a little accident with some doughnuts the daily entries won't kick into force until Monday.


Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
Christopher Hampton

Friday, June 06, 2003

This is the reason I never want to get old. Good thing I am eating myself to an early grave, so the golden years will never apply.

Nonetheless I do want to make age thirty before my first heart attack; therefore tomorrow begins a new healthy lifestyle. In other words I am starting a crash diet, involving voodoo science and lots of water.


For your enjoyment I am writing a "food diary", it should provide a boat load of laughs. Also, it should make you feel significantly better about yourselves. My own unique spin on the "point and laugh at fatty" phenomenon.

Look for a link tomorrow.



go to hell
I spent the last three hours rotting my brain as usual. But, for once it was well worth my time to sit in front of the tube, simply because of a special, little green guy. Yoda's acceptance speech was one the funniest fucking things I have ever seen. My inner nerd was overjoyed.


Oh, I almost forgot bi-sexual teenagers dressed like little school girls turn me on.

Can't wait till my fiftieth birthday when I am officially allowed to be a dirty old man.

I am

going to hell

Thursday, June 05, 2003

I remembered the strangest instance while showering today. A couple months ago while visiting the local nerd emporium, a group of three ex-dungeon masters were discussing the merits of "pussy" over video games. They seemed to have first hand knowledge of both topics, which was very disheartening. I had hoped to be the only guy who has both touched a young lady and logged in a couple hundred hours to Everquest. These chaps made me look like Brad Pitt's much better looking younger brother. Back to their conversation. Each troglodyte was very animated about the value of sex, going as far as to say it superseded even video games in terms of importance. Of course their reliance on hand gestures was problematic, the use of hairy digits to simulate nerd sex is not something one wishes to see. As I examined the memory a scary thought crept from subconscious, an idea that goes against the core of my very being. I held video games in higher esteem then "relations"

First let it be known that physical intimacy with a woman has been highly enjoyable in thepast. When available I tried to engage in it as much as humanly possible, reaching a peak of 5 times in day. But enough about my torrid love life, the issue at hand is my assertion that video games are more enjoyable than sex. Electronic entertainment provides an escape, one requiring minimal introspective thought. Usually, all that is necessary is to follow the little white rabbit while admiring the beautiful scenery.

Superficially sex follows the same guidelines. It is an escape from the mundanity of everyday life, where one experiences pleasure with little energy left to devote to thought. The problem is the before and after period. It requires immense energies and work. Doesn't matter if the act occurs during a one stand or in the 10th year of marriage. If you are a "player" all the energy is directed towards creating a false image of the self, one that impresses the object of desire, hopefully leading to coitus. Conversely a married couple spends decades lulling over the same humdrum issues, fighting, making up, making love, abstaining, etc.

I don't feel like getting into all the particulars, because my point is probably baseless. Admiringly I am single, bitter, and full post relationship angst so my vantage point is colored in such a way that it may appear alien to you.

by the way when I write "colored' it doesn't refer to darkies, redskins or albinos.

go to hell


Wednesday, June 04, 2003

Addendum to June 4th Log Entry

It seems I have a stick stuck up my ass as well.

Oddly enough I kind of like it.

Does that make me a butt-pirate?

Oops I did it again.

Well at least my imaginary friend, Mr. Gary Thompson, who happens to be a monkey midget, will love me no matter what filth spews from my keyboard.



I wasn't going to post today due to my fascination with becoming a 50th level werewolf wizard but something came up and needs clarified.

A friend of mine, whom I think the world of, apparently has a stick stuck up his ass today and took offense at yesterdays post. Read Tuesday's comments to catch up. Considering this is a medium where people post things with little forethought or consideration, I take very little of it seriously. As you very well know most of my entries have been stupid, asinine and downright silly. The post yesterday sparked controversy, leading someone to use the term racism. No sweat off my back. I usually don't take offense when a ridiculous charge is levied against me, especially on the internet but today is a little different.
The point of this website is to entertain MYSELF. Hopefully along the way others find little tidbits they can relate to, perhaps even laugh at. At the end of the day I write for personal satisfaction. Not everyone will like my style, substance and especially sense of humor. Their loss. But what I can't tolerate is wanton ignorance, which is the same as stupidity.

I don't have to defend my views, hell if I want to be a racist bastard; it is will within my rights to do so. But I don't. It requires constant diligence against truth, in other words you gotta act stupid all the same. Yet, racism is not limited to a dominant group discriminating against a minority. It is in fact a tool used by the minority as well. I used the term "white" man's English to be funny. If you want to get serious I am well aware that English mastery is not limited by ones skin color. Sounds like common sense right? Then again plenty of Black leaders disagree. Oakland City Schools started the disturbing trend of Ebonics. In essence they divided the language into two groups, those being urban slang and proper English. The urban variant was spoken, surprisingly enough, in urban areas by the folks who lived there. They happened to be black in most cases. This left proper English to be associated with everyone else Asian, black, white or whatever. As it happens Whites were the majority of this group, another big surprise. All this translates into Ebonics being associated with blacks, with the rest of the language falling to whites. Basically a group of radical blacks instituted a moronic program, one that was by its definition bigoted in nature. I am not sure if Ebonics still exists in Oakland or anywhere else for that matter, though the initial damage is still felt today. Standardized tests are now being targeted as being unfair to urban youths, i.e. blacks, because their insistence on using standardized English. There are plenty of valid critiques against these tests but that is not one of them. Again bigoted black leaders divided the language up. One was spoken by "white" youths, the other by "black". Both examples point out the use of willful ignorance which often translates into bigotry/racism. Rather then set down and examine why their was a language divide, they opted to promote linguistic segregation.
Of course ultra liberal white’s and blacks, who have boatloads of intelligence but very little wisdom, are blissfully unaware of this fact They see it as promoiting racial harmony and equality. A similar argument was made by Southern leaders, who happened to be racist whites, from 1870 up until a few decades ago. Their arguement was centered on seperate facilities but it translates nicely to seperate language as well.

The above paragraph is the entire reason why I am upset. My statement was meant in the spirit of humor. A white middleclass guy took it as being racist. Truth be told it is a racist comment, but only when used by supposed civil rights leaders. Not that he cares, but I am not angry at my friend's unfounded accusations. Just as he shouldn't be upset that I revealed he has a splintery rectum.


This goes for everyone

Lighten up

(By the way this is a true rant, meaning it is my mind to the page, no editing or even spell check since I am using the computer next door and am being booted off as I finish this sentence, so if it makes no sense well fuck off and if it sounds halfway lucid, it is not my fault.)

Tuesday, June 03, 2003

I had an interview today. After twenty minutes of Q & A, which barely required conscious thought, the human resources woman offered me the job. I had mixed emotions at her pronouncement. First, this woman was barely fit to serve me fries, more less determines my job worthiness. I should have been interviewing her if anything. Through sheer force of will I managed to suppress my superior complex and to seriously consider the merits of the job. It pays $11.00 an hour, with health benefits available the first day. There are sixteen mandatory weekend hours every month. It pays better then some jobs, like dog sitting for example, but it falls well short of my deserved income ($80,000 sounds about right). Of course I have no real world, tangible job skills so perhaps my innate sense of worth is exaggerated. Either that or everyone is jealous of my greatness and simply unwilling to acknowledge it as of yet.

The job entails collecting money from delinquent accounts, also known as milking deadbeats for their welfare money. I shadowed an employee for twenty or so minutes. He explained three job criteria. It requires sitting for extended period times with little movement. Check. Basic computer and typing skills are required. Check. One must be able to negotiate with people in a friendly and persuasive manner. Two out of three ain't bad. Based on my personal experience with credit card companies I have yet to have one communicate in an intelligent or effective manner. Hell, usually Laquisha can barely speak white man's English leading me to think the last job criterion is dubious at best. After listening on nearly three dozen phone calls I also discovered another requirement, the ability to be nonplused by perpetual rejection. Of course my dating life unique qualifies me in this aspect.

Before my job offer could be finalized it was necessary to successfully complete three steps. First I had to pass a drug test. Good thing I kicked my smack habit a few months ago. Then it is necessary to receive a written notification from job references. Since I am the HR director, i.e. the guy answers all business mail, at my dads store that step is easily taken care of. Finally, I have to pass a background check. Thankfully the whole stint as high templar of church Gog and the subsequent animal sacrifices involved are sealed in my juvenile record.

All this leads to the conclusion that I, Bob, am qualified for the job. It is menial, as most work seems to me, but believe it or not tedium has lost its allure. Lying around on my ample buttock is quickly losing its appeal. A job would me good. Maybe even encourage personal growth. Or at the least get me in good with the chubby human resource secretary who appeared incredibly desperate for male attention.

I will sleep sixteen hours on it and decide tomorrow,

in the meantime

go to hell

Monday, June 02, 2003

I came to a very valuable conclusion this morning while delivering "antique" furniture to an elderly person. Time is the most precious commodity, especially my time. Due to the ineptitude of my father/Stalin/boss I had to drive across town multiple times for an otherwise simple delivery. He had forgotten to take down the gentleman's phone number, which is problematic when you are hours late in delivering the merchandise. No about the man would be gone but to appease my father I delivered it all the same. Luckily today I had a helper, who must be Yosemite Sam's real life counterpart. And, like the beloved Warner character he is very two dimensional and lacking any intelligence whatsoever. All in all the numerous trips to and fro were a wonderful experience, slightly less agonizing then having a rusted fork inserted in your rectum. Onto my revelation.

Time is truly precious. However what you do with said time is not really important. Whether one spends it working with the handicap or stuffing their face with Taco Bell is of little consequence. What matters is controlling ones time. Choosing the tempo of the day is where the value comes from. One minute of my day is priceless. Granted several thousand dollars a week would cushion the loss, but does it really?

Let’s say you work at a company doing a job you detest and make "good" money. For simplicities sake lets say $50,000 a year, which is several thousand dollars above the national average. Also, to stay away form any moral obligations to family, you are single as well. Now imagine you are working in a boring, meaningless job that offers nothing save for a steady paycheck. You work a mandatory forty hour week, and are obligated to attend an occasional conference. Over the course of the next year you will spend at the very minimum 2,080 hours at work. Converting your salary to an hourly wage comes up with roughly $24.38 an hour. Of course this is before taxes. Using a very conservative estimate of thirty-five percent going to Social Security, Federal, State and Sales taxes you are actually left with $32,500 in salary or $15.62 am hour.

Since you have a fairly good job it is necessary to drive a reasonably nice car so you splurge a little and get a $30,000 SUV resulting in a monthly payment of circa $500.00. Full coverage insurance runs around $250.00 per quarter. Due to a horrific roommate experience in college you opt to live alone in a 1 bedroom studio apartment. Rent is $550.00 a month. Essential utilities, i.e. water, gas, and a telephone run on average $75.00 per month. To keep costs down you forgo a girlfriend and instead get the full service cable package, including high speed internet access and cinamax. Cost is nearly $100.00 a month. Obviously you need a cell phone, with lots of minutes since it is necessary to talk incessantly on the phone while driving, eating and picking your ass. The plan costs $40.00 a month. Since you are single and tired from working a long a day you order out quite a bit leading to a $300.00 monthly food budget. Due to the immense generosity of your company health/dental/eye coverage is include in your salary with relatively low co-pay. Still it does add up to nearly $500.00 per year due to your childhood addiction to an asthma inhaler.

I am going to assume you are like me and have no social life other then the occasional movie therefore your luxury budget will be paltry $700.00 a year. By the grace of God credit cards have never been an attraction so you have no high interest debt. Of course you do owe $40,000 in student loans because your parents were cheap bastards. Wanting to eliminate the debt as soon as possible you pay in $5000.00 a year. The cost for all these life essentials is $25,980. Subtract that from your final gross income and you are left with a little over $6500. Divide that up by the number of hours worked and you get $3.14 an hour. That is the real wage you earn after calculating in all the junk that comes with having a $50,000 salary.

By the way don't tell me that the above figures are inflated, because I was low balling throughout, if anything the costs should be higher.

The point of the above exercise was to demonstrate what you really get in exchange for your time. Sure a nice cushy desk job paying nearly a $1000.00 a week sounds great but don't forget the hidden costs, in particular what it takes to maintain the job. Realistically a human being could live on much less but that isn't going to happen, the more you make means the more you spend. The problem is that the ratio between time and money earned is heavily skewed in favor of time spent rather then money gained. My time is worth much more then a measly $3.00 an hour.

Then again I live off the fruit of my parent's loins

Today's lesson: Never move away from home or strive for any professional success as it is ultimately fruitless and a waste of time. In other words be like Bob.


and remember my motto

go to hell



Sunday, June 01, 2003

I can't think of anything worthwhile to bitch about today. Maybe the Sabbath has rubbed off on me. Who the fucking Christ knows?

The weekend has been fairly unexciting due to my antisocial tendencies. I have read three books thus far, about to start on number four so at least it has been stimulating on a cognitive level. Of course Dean Koontz will never be confused with Hemmingway so maybe it has been a bust intellectually as well. Though I did do one thing of note this weekend. My seven year old brother let me play his new video game. Many parent groups, and quite a few high ranking politicians, i.e. Joe Lieberman, have denounced this game. I guess they think playing it will lead to antisocial, violent tendencies. Well, I am already set there so what harm could it do me. Of course my little bro shouldn't be playing it but my parents are retarded when it comes to the little hellion so what can you do.

Anyway, the first thing I decided to do in this sprawling virtual world was beat down a couple female bystanders. Then I proceeded to shoot random people as they passed by. I started to giggle. Five minutes into my virtual homicidal rampage I quietly handed the control over to my brother with a sad smile on my face. GTA Vice City is meant for mature audiences, and oddly enough that doesn't include me. Hopefully devil spawn will handle the virtual power better or at least not partake in senseless violence with such glee.



Anyway I am off to do some heavy reading.


go to hell